


The demon in the lightstick

by sechenitis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Demon, Drabble, M/M, i don't know what this is, it's bad lmao, just random word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9093898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sechenitis/pseuds/sechenitis
Summary: Jongdae made a wish, but maybe he should have whispered it to a shining star and not to the boy who magically spurted out of a forgotten lightstick. Maybe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is lame and self indulgent and it's just me trying to fight back writer's block  
> this could become a very nice 50k+ long fic though lmao

_Fuck_ , Jongdae thinks. _Fuck fuck fuck. I fucked up, God, I fucked up._

Something moves outside the locked door, and Jongdae freezes with a whimper that he muffles with his sweaty palm. He can still feel the grabby hands pulling on his clothes, perfectly manicured fingers scratching his skin and even hungry lips trying to bite him. He’s honestly lucky to still have a piece or two of clothing on him, and to actually be alive. Today was unreal, worse than any zombie movie ever made, and Jongdae is to blame for everything. He makes a face, swallows the bile burning the back of his throat and pulls up his knees to his chest. Thank god for dressing rooms. He glances at the keyhole. And latches. 

It all started so innocently, he thinks – tries to defend himself really. If he was standing in front of two rows of jury members, he’d pull out the childhood dream card, he’d talk about his parents struggling to raise him and all the hard work he poured into his passion. This used to work, when it was just nasty little accidents, like fights at the airports, his fans getting a bit crazy about people supporting other idols ( _what are you saying, Kim Jongdae isn’t your favourite? You just don’t understand anything about music!_ ). Then it turned into fans beating innocent teenagers, cameramen fainting when he started singing, the head of his company crying at his feet and begging for Jongdae to wink at him. That, Jongdae struggles to find an excuse for, other than, well, _I truly fucked up._

This wasn’t really his wish though, and this would be his last defence. When he found the lightstick under a bench in the practice room he had sweated away the last five years of his life, he didn’t have any of this in mind. The lightstick was of a deep and velvety shade of red, and the shape was unfamiliar to Jongdae, which freaked him out at first. He wasn’t supposed to not know an idol, especially if it was someone under the same company than him. He hadn’t debuted yet, but this was already a bad sign if he couldn’t even recognize the symbol of one of his seniors. He threw the lightstick, hyperventilating and hysterically sobbing, hours of lack of sleep taking the best of his sanity, when the lightstick laughed. It _laughed._

And two months later, here is the famous Kim Jongdae, new rising star of South Korea. Locked in a dressing room because the world has gone crazy and he is to blame for it. Last time he performed on tv, he was handed the first place trophy without the votes even appearing on screen, and everyone was crying, and sure, it was creepy, but it definitely was less creepy than fans flooding the stage and trying to have a piece of him. In every way possible. (The back of Jongdae’s head still hurts, where someone pulled out a good chunk of hair.)

“Fuck,” Jongdae whimpers. “Fuck.”

He glances at the room around him and wonders how the hell he is supposed to get out the building without being torn apart, or whatever _they_ want to do with him. The prospect of staying there and just starving to death is much more attractive than the mere idea of stepping out of the precarious safety of the room to face crazy, hysterical fans. It’s not just the fans, actually, it’s _everyone_. Cameramen, sound technicians, MCs, grannies, kids, basically everyone who hears him sing. And that was his wish, wasn’t it?

_I want people to fall in love with my voice when I sing._

Jongdae pictures the jury members’ eyebrows quirk up, and he mentally shakes his head. Yes, he did say that, but it wasn’t what he meant! He wanted to be appreciated, he wanted to debut already and to be different in the ruthless sea of idols. He just wanted his dream to work out. 

“Fucking demon,” he groans as he pulls on what’s left of his right sleeve to cover his arm. It’s quite chilly in here. 

“No need to be rude,” a playful voice answers. 

Jongdae jumps with a yelp, and immediately covers his mouth, terrified. The very same face that smiled at his wish two months ago is now taking him in with patronizing nonchalance just a few steps before Jongdae. 

“You might want to keep quiet,” the demon says. “They’re all looking for you.”

“Fuck you,” Jongdae hisses before jerking up and pressing his palms against his mouth. He glares at the demon. “Fuck you,” he repeats, in a lower voice. 

The demon smiles. He looks exactly like he did when he suddenly materialized in front of Jongdae in the practice room: tall, slender, and his posture perfectly straight. Broad shoulders match deep dark eyes, and pink lips clash against pale, smooth lips. He introduced himself as Sehun the last time, but Jongdae highly doubts he’s called like that in Hell, or wherever demons can when they’re not busy turning people’s wish into nightmares. 

“Don’t look so disgruntled,” Sehun says with a smile. “You asked for this.”

“I did _not_ ” Jongdae snaps back in angry whispers. “I wanted people to genuinely like my music, but you made them completely nuts!”

Sehun raises an eyebrow. 

“Did you, or did you not ask for people to fall in love with your voice?”

“Yes but –“ 

“And did you, or did you not, debut thanks to me? Already gained millions of fans? Won several trophies and rewards?”

“Yes, but –“

“So, did I, or did I not, grant your wish?”

Jongdae glares at Sehun and pauses, just to make sure that the latter does expect an answer this time. Sehun keeps staring, his lips stretched into a grin, and his eyes the perfect representation of innocence and genuine kindness. 

“I’d hardly call that a success,” Jongdae groans. “I could have been killed today.”

Sehun shrugs. “These violent delights have violent ends.”

Jongdae stares, dumbfounded.

“Shakespeare,” Sehun says in a patronizing tone. “Not that I expect you to know the guy.”

Jongdae feels his temper rise dangerously close to the surface. He can still hear people walking and running in the corridors behind the door, and it’s honestly a miracle that no one has thought about checking the dressing rooms, but he’s not gonna rely on luck much longer. He has the demon who started everything under his hand, so now he just has to make him change everything back to normal. 

“Of course I know Shakespeare,” he says. 

“Well that’s a surprise,” Sehun chuckles. “I wasn’t expecting it from the guy who asked a _demon_ to grant his wish and is now surprised it all went downhill.”

Jongdae opens his mouth, but he’s short on excuses this time. Sehun does have a point. He introduced himself as Sehun, the lightstick _demon_ , which did sound quite ridiculous. If anything, the association of lightstick and demon probably lessen the impact of the demon part. Looking at Sehun’s smug face now, Jongdae can’t help but think that this was the whole point of the stupid theatricality of their first meeting. He groans. 

“Just, change it back,” he says.

“Or what?” Sehun snorts. It’s obvious that he’s having fun now, and this doesn’t comfort Jongdae at all. 

“Or – or,” he stutters. Then it hits him. “Or I’ll sing! And I’ll make you obey!”

Sehun chuckles loudly. Jongdae winces and gestures at him to keep quiet, which, of course, doesn’t seem to be Sehun’s priority at all. He snorts just as loudly for good measure and throws a disdainful look at Jongdae. 

“How clever,” he snickers. “What a great idea. Yes, please, sing for me. Make the demon fall in love with you. Because humans are not dangerous enough, right? It’s better to have a demon coming after your ass. At least you’ll stop whining after I eat you whole.”

“Eat – Eat me?” Jongdae croaks. 

He thinks about fingers and teeth trying to reach his skin, and now that he’s considering it, they did look quite… hungry. Hungry for _him_ , and eager to possess him. Fuck, he thinks. He fucked up so badly, oh God. 

Sehun is now eyeing the dressing room around them, curious eyes taking in every little detail. He would look cute if he wasn’t evil, Jongdae muses. 

“What are you even doing here?” he asks. 

Sehun glances at him, looking bored and annoyed. It’s just an act. He was much friendlier when Jongdae was opening up about his dream two months ago. Now he’s just trying to infuriate Jongdae, because he feeds on that, doesn’t he? He’s a fucking demon, after all. And damn, he’s quite the demon. 

“I’m here to collect my soul. When you’ll die, your soul will be mine, so I didn’t want to miss the final act of miracle singer Kim Jongdae.”

“When I die?” Jongdae shrieks before gasping and covering his mouth again. Sehun chuckles.

“You have nowhere else to go and they’re after you. You’re so obviously fucked.”

“You can’t let me die!” Jongdae protests. He doesn’t care about the noise he’s making now. He’s way too scared to care. This wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He had big dreams. It never involved becoming the king of South Korean charts in two months only or seeing himself offered the presidency of his own country after he sang at a freaking wedding. No, it involved hard work and deceptions, but passion and finally, well-deserved success. He saw a girl crying so hard at his high notes she threw up. Nope, definitely not the plan. 

“Sehun,” he pleads. Hell, if this hell boy wants to hear him beg, he’ll beg. He’s going to fucking beg for his life. “Don’t let me die. Please, cancel my wish, just… I’ll do everything you want, please, please, don’t let them eat me.”

This caught Sehun’s attention, he can tell. The demon scrunches up the tip of his nose like a cat with interest. He takes in Jongdae as he chews on his inner cheek, thoughtful. 

“Please?” Jongdae adds, for good measure. He’d press his palms together and link his fingers if he wasn’t afraid it would be offensive for the demon. Praying is kind of a God thing, isn’t it?

“Everything?” Sehun asks. Jongdae furiously nods. “Okay. Then I want you to become my familiar.”

Jongdae opens his mouth, ready to accept whatever conditions Sehun throws at him, but this catches him off guard. Confused, he frowns. 

“Familiar?” he repeats. “Like witches with their cats?”

Sehun glares. “Do I fucking look like a witch?”

“How would I know? I’ve never seen one.”

Sehun sighs deeply and it has his long, silky jet black bangs flying over his forehead. Jongdae briefly wonders if it really is his true face, or if he has brunt flesh and red horns instead. Maybe Sehun chose his appearance to trick Jongdae, maybe it was just meant to have Jongdae fall into his trap, and if it did, well, Sehun did quite a good job at him. Whoever’s face he is wearing right now was (is?) sinfully handsome. 

“I just want you to be my plaything. I can cancel the wish, but instead, you’ll have to be at my service.”

Jongdae gulps. That doesn’t sound much better than the be eaten alive, to be perfectly honest. 

“What… what would you do with me?”

Sehun shrugs. 

“I don’t know.” He pauses and flashes a smug smile. “I’ve never had anyone dumb enough to be fooled by my tricks before,” he adds, pleased with himself.

“Are you going to eat me?”

Sehun sighs again. He shakes his head and nods at Jongdae with disdain. 

“You’re small and honestly too thin. You’re not even enough for appetizer.”

Jongdae curls up a bit more, fingers desperately clenching on his tibias, like it could protect him from a flesh-eating demon. 

“Being a demon is lonely,” Sehun says. “I just want someone with me.” He frowns and glares at Jongdae, as though him opening up (or whatever that was) was Jongdae’s fault. Jongdae quite agrees that he’s responsible for a lot of unfortunate events today, but this is not one of them. He’s too scared to disagree out loud though. 

“So… you wouldn’t kill me?”

Sehun snorts. 

“I’d let them do it, if it was my goal. I’d have your soul either way, and it’s much funnier to watch humans get their hands dirty. They’re so creative.”

Jongdae chuckles nervously. He’d ask many more things, if there wasn’t a worrying growing amount of stomping behind the door. He hears something crash against a wall, and pictures with vivid horror doors opening one after the other. Sehun, who probably came to the same conclusion, grins widely. 

“Okay,” Jongdae says, making his way from the door on all fours. “Please don’t let them eat me, I agree, I agree, I _agree_!”

He yelps when someone forces on the doorknob behind him and shields his face with his arms, terrified. If he has to be eaten, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want his eyes and cheeks to go first. That sounds like the most painful parts. But then, instead of the door banging open like he expects it, only silence follows the agitation in the corridor. Jongdae looks up, his heart racing in his chest. Sehun is now standing in front of him, the tip of his shiny shoes blinding Jongdae with unreal glares. 

“Why me?” Jongdae whines. 

Sehun shrugs, amused. 

“You’re cute,” he answers.

He reaches out, fingers spread out and welcoming as his smile widens even more. It creates crinkles in that map the corner of his eyes, and his cheekbones now jut out. Mischief spread over his face, and Jongdae feels his inside turn to lead. 

“That was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” he accuses. 

Sehun chuckles. 

“Like I said, you’re cute.” 

He wriggles in fingers in front of Jongdae’s eyes as a quiet command, and Jongdae deflates. He won’t be eaten alive, but something tells him he’s still painfully fucked.

He raises his hand and takes Sehun’s.


End file.
